


i have burned your bridges (i will be a gun, and it's you i'll come for)

by notcaycepollard



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, jesus christ so much angst, mentions of Skye/Lincoln, spoilers for s3 ep3, why are my favourite beautiful people fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 08:51:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4998463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcaycepollard/pseuds/notcaycepollard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's still angry. She's still wary. She's still heartsick that he betrayed her trust (for her, she thinks, to protect her). But she thinks, god, what would she have done to save Coulson, and she can't lie; Daisy would burn down cities to save his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i have burned your bridges (i will be a gun, and it's you i'll come for)

**Author's Note:**

> me: BUT WHY ARE MY BEAUTIFUL FAVES FIGHTING  
> me: I CAN'T TAKE THIS oh god my feelings this is not what I signed on for
> 
> me, half an hour later: but what if they fought HARDER and everything was A MILLION TIMES MORE ANGST
> 
>  
> 
> (post s3e3, credit to CHVRCHES for the title)

"Help me understand," Daisy says flatly, and she's angry, she's  _so_ angry. 

"It was not an easy decision," Coulson replies, "I had to make a choice," and she knows, immediately, what his choice was. It's not good enough. What he did, she thinks, none of it was good enough.

"It is hard to trust them when they are  _hunting_ people like me," she tells him, and Daisy's never come so close to saying she doesn't trust  _him_ , she doesn't trust  _Coulson_ , but god, right now, she's closer than she's ever been.

"I don't trust them. But Rosalind can learn from us, can learn from you," Coulson argues, and Daisy hardens her jaw.

"First name basis, huh," she says. "It was the _wrong call_ , Coulson."

"It was the only call I could make!" he says, standing up and stepping into her space, and Daisy doesn't back down.

"You had  _no right_ to make it. This is  _my team_ , Coulson, and if you don't have my back,  _all_ of my people's backs, then how can I even work with you on this."

"I can't lose you," Coulson says, "I couldn't- I couldn't lose you."

"Yeah," Daisy says. "I've heard that before."

"Skye, _please_ ," Coulson pleads. 

"My name is Daisy," she reminds him. "Or can you only remember that when you're angry with me or giving me orders."

"Daisy," he says, looking stricken. " _Daisy_." He touches her arm, and she doesn't shrug it off like she wants to, but she doesn't lean into his touch either. _  
_

"What," she asks eventually. "Say it, Coulson, because you know I'm furious, and you know I'm right. You sold Lincoln out, Coulson, someone I _care_ for, that's not-"

"I love you," he tells her, and she just stares at him for a long moment, and then his phone rings.

"Let me guess," she says, and her voice cracks in a way she's not proud of. " _Rosalind_."

"I just-" Coulson replies, "I'm sorry, this will only take a moment, Daisy-"

"Yeah, fuck you, Coulson," she grits out, turns on her heel and slams his office door behind her. She doesn't know where she's going, but she's  _going_.

 

+

 

Her cellphone rings when she's an hour out of base, and she flips it onto speakerphone. "What," she says. "You left it too late."

"You stole Lola."

"So get Rosalind to put out an APB. Or, I know, why stop there, she could release my photo as a  _known terrorist threat_."

"Daisy," Coulson sighs, and her heart twists in her chest.

"I mean," she says, "for all I know, you put a tracker in my arm too, right, Coulson? You can probably see exactly where I am. Tag your favorite Inhuman, and all."

"I would never-"

"Monitor me? Keep secrets from me? _Lie_ to me?" There's a long silence on the other end of the line, and the wind whips at her hair, chills the tears on her cheeks. She wipes them away furiously, bites her lip hard.

"You're being very..."

"Reckless? Desperate? Childish? Sure. Send Andrew my way. We'll talk about  _leadership_."

"Difficult," Coulson says quietly. "Difficult, is what I was going to say. And stubborn. And just, come _home_ , Daisy, we can talk about this."

 _Phil_ , she almost says, and doesn't, bites it back. "Maybe," she says instead. "Give me some space."

"Where will you go?" he asks, and Coulson sounds almost as punched-out hollow as she feels.

"I don't know," she tells him, "I don't know, I don't care," and she hangs up, turns her phone off. She could go anywhere. Anywhere's better than here. Anywhere's better than this.

 

+

 

She could track down Lincoln, she thinks, and doesn't, because it feels complicated. She wasn't lying - she cares for Lincoln - but she knows she was using everything she had to persuade him to come in, and that includes their kiss, and after everything that happened with the ATCU, this makes the third time Lincoln's given her that look like she betrayed him. She can't keep coming to him, can't keep trying to save someone who doesn't want her help.

She could go to the Retreat, but it's where Coulson will look first, if he's looking, and it's too full of memories.  _I just need you to be my friend right now_ , she remembers, and gets that hollow feeling in her chest again.

She could go to her father, and the thought of it fills her up, and she wishes, she  _wishes_ , because Cal would welcome her in and wrap his arms around her and tell her, as many times as she needs to hear it, that she's not a monster, that she's beautiful, that she's better than perfect. But Cal's gone, just a memory in the breeze, and Dr Winslow's only met her a couple of times, and he wouldn't know.

She just drives, in the end, drives and drives until she's in an anonymous city somewhere on the West coast, rents a room in a motel that's not too seedy and lies on the bed trying not to think about anything at all. She could get drunk, she supposes, really, stupidly drunk, and it seems like a good enough idea at the time that she goes out again, buys a bottle of whisky, and does just that.

The hangover is almost worse than the headache she'd had for days after holding the portal open. Almost. It doesn't stop her from doing the same thing the next night, and yeah, she knows what Andrew would say right now.  _Reckless and self-destructive_. She's been around enough shrinks to know  _that_. She needs a little self-destruction, feels like immolating in a fire of hurt and betrayal and recrimination. It'll pass. It'll burn everything out of her, and what's left after the fire, that'll be worth holding onto.

 

+

 

The third night, she turns on her phone again, stares at it for a while, pours herself a drink and throws it back. Finally dials. It barely even rings.

"Daisy, god, I-" Coulson breathes, and she pauses.

"Did you mean it," she demands. "Coulson. Did you mean it."

"Yeah," he says softly, "yes,  _yes_ , Skye. Daisy. Yes."

"And not in, like, the way in which you really love our  _friendship_ ," she clarifies, and Coulson laughs a little.

"No," he agrees, "not like that."

"You're-" she gets out, and her throat constricts. She pours herself another drink, takes a sip, tries again. "You're in love with me," she gets out, and there's a long stretch of silence, the phone connection buzzing a little between them.

"I'm so, so in love with you," Coulson agrees, finally, his voice full of wonder, and Daisy lets out a long breath. "Is it too late?" he asks, "did I- did I leave it too late?"

"No," Daisy replies, before she's even thought about it, and her own answer surprises her. "No, but... there's a lot, Phil, the way we are, it's not, you can't. You  _can't_. I can't. I can't work with you when you work like this."

"Okay," he agrees, "we'll work on it."

"Yeah," she says, "when I come home."

"Soon?"

"Maybe," she tells him, "yeah, maybe soon." She's still got a lot to think about. She still needs space. But soon, she'll come home, and maybe that bridge won't be burned between them.

 

+

 

She comes back to base after a week, and the team are quietly pleased to see her. Mack ruffles her hair, calls her Tremors, and Daisy smiles, tries to ignore how sick with nerves she feels, and then she knocks on Coulson's office, steps inside. He looks up, and his face goes slack with surprise, and god, all she can remember is the last time she was in this office, the way she'd stormed out.

"I..." she tries, coughs, starts over. "Lola's safe. I took good care of her." Coulson's still staring at her, and he doesn't say anything, and she shrugs awkwardly, steps backward. "Well, I guess I'll, uh-"

"You're home," he interrupts her. "You're  _home_."

"I said I would be," she reminds him, and his eyes go soft. "But I mean, we can just-"

"Daisy," Coulson says, stands up and steps closer, and she remembers, too, the charged air between them, the way she'd stood her ground against him. Things are charged again, she thinks, but she doesn't know how, she doesn't know in what way. She's still angry; a week away hasn't changed that. She's still  _wary_. She's still heartsick that he betrayed her trust ( _for her_ , she thinks,  _to protect her_ ). But she thinks, god, what would she have done to save Coulson, and she can't lie; Daisy would  _burn down cities_ to save his life.

Coulson swallows, reaches for her arm very tentatively, and this time, this time, she sways into the touch, closes her eyes.

"Are we too late?" he asks quietly, and it feels like it breaks a dam within her, because she steps into it, slams up against him, presses her mouth to his with sudden hard need. Coulson makes a surprised noise, pulls her closer, kisses back breathlessly, and no, no, they're not too late at all, they're right on time.

"I was so angry," she says between kisses, nips at his lower lip. "I'm so angry, Phil, _never_ do that again."

"Okay," he agrees, "okay, I'm sorry, I,  _fuck_ , Daisy, I'm sorry."

"Yeah," she says, slides her hand up the back of his neck into his hair and kisses his jaw, his throat, his collarbone, and it makes Coulson groan. Daisy doesn't feel hollowed out anymore, she feels filled with this, suddenly, filled with want and need and reckless desperation. "Tell me again," she whispers, "tell me like you mean it."

"I love you," he says, his voice raw, "always have," and he's kissing her again. Her face is wet, she realizes with surprise, and she wipes her eyes, presses her face into the hollow of his shoulder.

"Yeah," she says, "okay. Okay," because this is bridges being rebuilt between the two of them, and this is what it means to work on something together, and this is not losing someone, and this, this is  _home_.


End file.
